Page 2 of The Butterfly Killer

She would have been clean if it weren’t for the flies. She was hours old—long gone—and the flies were impatient.

Marcus moved upward and knelt at her side. Long push-pins held her hand and fingers firmly to the carpet. The same things were probably what was keeping her head propped up.

Marcus flinched when the front door open and loud footsteps trampled into the room.

“Jesus fuck!” Officer Daniels groaned in disgust. “Why are you so damn close?”

Marcus lurched back. He hadn’t noticed he’d been inching closer and closer. He blinked at the woman’s still face. He snapped out of the haze and turned away.

His stomach twisted. He jumped up and ran out of the room, pushing Daniels aside.

He gasped as he made it to the porch. He sucked in deep breaths until he felt light-headed. He was only slightly proud of himself for not puking his guts—he’d done that many times before. He was more so freaked out that he’d not only lost time in his head but had been about to?—

To what? What was he thinking back there?

He whipped his head back to gaze into the dark gloomy house that hadn’t looked so frightening until then.

The smell of death continued to waft out. He covered his nose again, but he couldn’t get himself to walk away.

As things began to click in his head, a sense of dread and excitement filled him. His stomach flipped.

After six long years, the man he was searching for was back again—the Butterfly Killer.

Marcus sealed off the scene with yellow tape. Thirty minutes later and the whole crew was here. Forensics lab bustled through, swabbing and bagging things. The lone man with a camera took photos of the outside and then he went inside.

Marcus watched as each person slowly went inside while he was stuck outside to make sure no one crossed the tape. A part of him was glad to be away from the smell of death. The image of the dead woman was painted clearly in his mind. But there was also the side of him that hungered for information and revenge that was fighting tooth and nail to get in there.

He needed to know more. But he was a nobody in the grand scheme of things.

A silver car pulled up along with the Chief’s car. The chief exited and met up with the two tall men dressed in black suits.

Feds. That was quick.

Marcus watched them closely. He couldn’t hear anything they were saying. He tried to read their lips but that was a lost cause. The two agents nodded to the chief and then headed toward Marcus.

He straightened up as they grew close. He lifted the tape for them. They passed by without looking him in the eyes. Only the chief offered him a smile. That felt worse. Like the chief was giving him acknowledgement out of pity.

Marcus returned the tight smile anyway. He wasn’t one for being rude. He was just trying to make it through like everyone else in the department, but he knew no one really liked him. He was a weird strange case people whispered about.

Once more he was left alone in the front yard, guarding the scene like someone was going to run up on it at any second. That was a rare. He sorta wished it would happen so things would get interesting. The sun blazed in the afternoon and there were a couple more hours of this before he got a break.

A few minutes later another car pulled up. It was much nicer—flashy and ugly if Marcus was being honest. The car looked like it belonged to a billionaire fuck boy rather than someone attached to the department.

Marcus wasn’t surprised when Detective Blevins stepped out with his just as annoying partner Detective Thompson. Blevins slid his shades up on his head, pushing back his feathery cut hair from his face.

“Morning queasy.” Blevins gave a toothy smile as he stood in front of the yellow tape.

Marcus gave him a blank stare. “It’s afternoon.”

Blevins rose a brow. He looked up at the sky briefly. “So it is.”

Their stand off moment was broken when Thompson went under the tape. He motioned for Blevins to follow him. Blevins gave Marcus a look that made Marcus want to punch him. He rolled his eyes as he seethed.

There were worse things in the world than Blevins being an asshole to him. He’d seen worse things in the four years he’d been a cop. And he’d gone through Blevins antics time and time again. Nothing came out from them. Nothing worse than what he’d already dealt with.

It was another thirty minutes later when an older cop changed posts with him. He was on his way to take a break when he noticed the forensics team was packing up. Before he could talk himself out of the bad idea, he crept up the stairs. No one paid any attention to him. He was a fly on the wall, possibly more invisible than that. People simply didn’t give a shit about him one way or another.

The house felt different than it had before. Somehow, it felt more disturbed than when the traces of the murderer were left behind. He took a moment to scan the area. The detectives and agents were in the living room with the body. Their voices drifted and he could just barely make out what they were saying.

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